Jail Bird. Jessie Keane

the private detective bloke,’ she said. ‘The one you phoned.’

      Lily had forgotten she’d made this appointment. She’d forgotten everything, in the excitement of getting to the church to be humiliated, rejected. An image of Saz’s white, horrified face came into her brain again and she squeezed her eyes shut to block it out. The pain was awful.

      She opened her eyes and stood up. She was still wearing the cream linen; it was creased to hell now. She hadn’t even had a wash since she’d got in, she’d been too shocked, too hurt. She scuffed on her trainers and left the kitchen, shutting the door behind her. She went along the hall to speak to Jack Rackland, who she hoped could work miracles. Somehow, she doubted it.

       12

      He wasn’t what she had expected. Actually she didn’t know what she had expected, some seedy old weasel of a bloke with thin hair, a raincoat and a dewdrop hanging off the end of his nose maybe, but the man who stood at the door in no way matched that description. He looked to be about thirty-five, and he was bulky but not fat, medium height, neatly turned out in a well-fitted suit, shirt and tie. He had a good head of straight dirty-blond hair, a tanned intelligent face and very direct heavy-lidded light blue eyes. He was a good-looking man, and that surprised her. Not a weasel at all.

      And here I am looking like shit, thought Lily, embarrassed.

      ‘Mrs King?’

      ‘Yeah, that’s me.’ Lily made an awkward gesture back at the kitchen. ‘Look, we’d better walk, my friend’s busy…’

      She didn’t want to take him in the house, not after what Becks had said. She had some pride left – not much, admittedly – and she wasn’t about to infringe on Becks’s territory when it had just been made clear that she wasn’t welcome there any more.

      ‘Okay.’ He looked faintly surprised, but he turned back toward the gate and started walking. Lily came out, shut the front door and walked alongside him. In silence they went along the street, heading for the park. It was a gorgeous day and Lily should have been at her daughter’s wedding reception, mother of the bride, happy as could be.

      Instead she was here. Ousted from her friend’s house. Talking to some dubious bloke who was probably going to tell her things she didn’t even want to hear about her late husband. Mud-stained and teary from Saz’s attack on her. She looked a mess. She felt a mess. She felt as if all the strength had drained out of her and she was glad when they reached the park and sat down on a bench beneath the shade of a big chestnut tree. They were close to the paddling pool, and they sat there in silence for a few moments, watching the kids splashing around, carefree, having fun, their mothers flopped out on the grass, relaxed but ever-watchful. Lily couldn’t help remembering her two when they’d been little. Happy days. All gone now.

      ‘I wasn’t sure I ought to come,’ he said.

      Lily turned her head and looked at his face. He was a big man. He took up a lot of the bench. She’d got out of the habit of men, she realized, banged up with a load of hormonal women. ‘Oh? Why?’

      He shrugged. ‘It’s an old case. I worked for Mrs Thomson, gathering information about women she suspected a particular man to be involved with.’

      ‘And you know that man was my husband, Leo King,’ said Lily. ‘And Mrs Thomson was “involved” too. With my husband.’

      He looked at her. There was a brief flare of something like amusement in his eyes. ‘Look, whatever the ins and outs of it, the client’s always right, Mrs King. The client’s paying for the privilege.’

      Ah yes, payment. She hadn’t thought about what he’d want for this. She hoped he wouldn’t ask for anything up front. She had a little cash from her prison work, but it wouldn’t be enough, she knew that. Nowhere near enough.

      Did that slapper Adrienne have some brass neck, or what? she wondered angrily. Behaving like a betrayed wife and tracking all Leo’s other whores down.

      ‘Have you kept the records? I mean, you found them all. But have you still got their details on file?’ she asked him.

      ‘Twelve, thirteen years ago?’ He shook his head. ‘Unlikely. I don’t even remember that far back. Or not much, anyway. There was a nurses’ hostel, maybe. Something involving nurses, anyway. I’ve thought about it, racked my brains, but no good.’

       Shit.

      She wondered whether he was telling the truth. If he had to find them all over again, it could be costly for her, and a nice little earner for him. Being in the nick made you doubt people. Made you cover your own arse at all times.

      ‘You bullshitting me?’ she asked him bluntly.

      Again that glint of humour. ‘I wouldn’t dare, Mrs King. You blew your husband’s head off. You’ve just got out of stir. You’ve got a face on you like the wrath of God. Do you think I’d want to upset you?’

      Lily looked at him. Their eyes locked. He didn’t look the type of man to be fearful of anything, much less a shabby-looking blonde. She’d always thought she was a good judge of people, but fuck it, look where that had got her. But…she thought she could trust him. Just a bit. Maybe. But she had to keep her guard up, keep any hint of weakness hidden away.

      ‘Could you find them again?’ she asked. ‘Could you get me their names – which might be different now, I suppose. And maybe their old addresses?’

      ‘The woman I worked for…she was mentioned in the court case, wasn’t she?’

      Lily nodded. ‘Adrienne Thomson’s an old friend of mine, we go way back.’

      He let out his breath. ‘You want to choose your friends a bit more carefully, Mrs King.’

       Don’t I bloody well know it.

      ‘I’ll need a down payment, get me started. Three hundred ought to do it.’

      ‘Dream on,’ said Lily. ‘I’m short of readies right now.’ And no way was she going cap in hand to Becks, not now.

      ‘I’ve got to live, Mrs King,’ he said, his eyes still holding hers. ‘I’ve got exes, just like everyone else. And I’ve got to say, no cash, no deal.’

      ‘I didn’t say I couldn’t get some,’ said Lily. ‘Soon, anyway.’

      ‘Soon? Like, when?’

      ‘Like a few days’ time.’ And she wasn’t looking forward to that event, not at all.

      ‘Are you bullshitting me, Mrs King?’

      ‘I never bullshit, Mr Rackland. Never.’ Her eyes were steady on his. ‘Do you believe me?’

      He was silent, his eyes searching her face. ‘You know what?’ he said finally. ‘Funnily enough, I do. Which might make me a fucking fool or a sucker for a pretty face, but there you go.’

      ‘Are you married, Mr Rackland?’

      ‘Jack. Call me Jack. We’re separated, me and Monica.’

      ‘Who cheated? You, or her?’

      He paused for a beat, looked down, away. ‘Her,’ he said. ‘Said I was working too much, didn’t pay her enough attention.’

      ‘Hurts like fuck, don’t it?’ Lily smiled grimly. ‘But not as much as being banged up for something you didn’t do. Not as much as losing your husband, and your home, and your kids, and doing twelve long damned years for something someone else did.’

      ‘Are you really saying you didn’t do it?’

      ‘Got it in one.’

      He let